


Take-Out (aka False Pretenses)

by KuriQuinn



Series: The Legacy of Fire [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Companion Piece, Companionable Snark, F/M, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Pre-Relationship, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 17:15:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16896708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuriQuinn/pseuds/KuriQuinn
Summary: It’s not really trapping him—they are both aware that if he wanted to get away from her, he could do it faster than she could blink. So, either he was expecting this or he’s much more surprised than she predicted he would be.





	Take-Out (aka False Pretenses)

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** This story utilises characters, situations and premises that are copyright Masashi Kishimoto, Shueisha, Shonen Jump and Viz media. No infringement on their respective copyrights pertaining to episodes, novelisations, comics or short stories is intended by KuriQuinn in any way, shape or form. This fan-oriented story is written solely for the author's own amusement and the entertainment of the readers. It is not for profit. Any resemblance to real organizations, institutions, products or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
> 
> **All plot and Original Characters except for those introduced in the canon books, manga, video games, novelizations and anime, are the sole creation of KuriQuinn. (© KuriQuinn 2016- )**
> 
> **Warning:** This story involves an OC, namely Manako Inuzuka. It's been tagged, so any complaints about that will be ignored. And before anyone gets all pearl-clutchy, Manako is eighteen in this story. She's of legal age of consent, so none of that purity-wank douchenozzlry about sex with minors. Manako is not a minor according to Japan's laws concerning age of consent and age of majority, and in all fairness, between her and Kakashi, she's probably the more mature one.
> 
> **Author’s Note:** This isn't exactly new, but it was only posted on tumblr. Since tumblr is now doing stupid things and I'm worried I might lose my NSFW stuff because their system for flagging inappropriate content is complete shite, I'm backing up everything. Ao3 and Quotev will have my NSFW stuff, as well as the Dreamwidth account I've linked to tumblr. 
> 
> Anyhow...mini rant over. I honestly don’t remember who requested this, it was either in my tumblr PMs or on ff.net or here on Ao3, but someone wanted a Kakashi/Manako fic of them doing naughty things. This was eventually going to go in my Underneath the Underneath fic, but it became too long and unwieldy and didn’t fit the narrative, so I’m just sticking it out here on its own. I’ll find a way to link it into the fic at a later point, or we’ll call it a companion piece. Either way, enjoy :P

 

Manako pauses in the act of brushing her teeth when she hears the quick staccato sound of knocking at her front door. Glancing through the bathroom mirror at the digital clock in her bedroom, she raises an eyebrow.

_Five-minutes-to six. He’s early_.

She’s not sure if that’s a good omen or not, but all the same she smirks. Wiping her mouth on her still-wet towel, she pauses a moment to consider herself in the mirror, then heads for the door. On the way, she pulls on a clean t-shirt and shorts, ignoring the collection of bras dangling from the door-handle as she goes. The tips of her damp hair immediately soak the back of her shirt, but if things go the way she suspects they might, it’s not a long-term problem.

When she pulls open the door, Kakashi is framed in the entry, balancing an armful of take-out containers in his left arm, his right hand casually shoved into the pocket of his trousers. She watches his one visible eye perform the quick down-up flick over her body, one she’s been noticing more and more often, and she grins at him.

“Kakashi Hatake,” she says, teasing. “Is this the first time in your life you’ve been early for anything?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies.

_“Sure_  you don’t,” she replies. She inhales the mouth-watering aroma of her favourite food, and her smile widens. “Well, now I feel spoiled. You’re on time  _and_  you bring me fine cuisine.”

“It was  _your_  condition,” he reminds her, and shrugs. “So…here. To thank you for sharing your expertise with the kids.”

“ _Mm_ -hm. Come on in. You can put it on the counter.”

She backs into her apartment and pushes the door open, leaving just enough space for him to get through. She doesn’t move aside, though, and he’s forced to brush past her as he crosses the threshold.

Goosebumps of anticipation travel up her arms and legs, and she watches the back of his neck redden as he passes.

_That’s a good sign._

He’s still dressed the same as when they parted earlier, she notices: the usual Konoha flak jacket and long sleeves. The clothing is clean enough that it still has fold marks in it. And his hair, while dry, isn’t flecked with dirt from their earlier outing.

_That’s a_ better _sign. He went home to shower and change before picking up the food._

She chooses to interpret that as him not considering this a regular errand, and that makes her grin turn a little predatory.  

Kakashi heads to her kitchen, glancing around at Manako’s messy, very lived-in apartment. It’s totally different from the immaculate order of his own, and she’s more than satisfied with that. She’s never seen the point of living in an apartment that’s more of a museum, or pretending she’s not messy just for the sake of someone else’s sensibilities. 

Besides, she did make some minor concessions. Her bed and her couch are both made up  _quite_  nicely.

Kakashi sets the packages down on her counter, and Manako follows close behind him.

“So, do you want to eat before or after?” she asks him. “I don’t know about you, but I like to work up an appetite first.”

“After what?” Kakashi asks, turning around then and stilling when he finds her directly in front of him.

“After I have my way with you,” she replies, and pushes him lightly. He sways backward, leaning into the counter, and his eye has gone comically wide.

“What?” he repeats, and she thinks if he were anyone else in the world, it would be a squeak.

“You heard me,” she tells him, crowding in close to him and putting her own hands on both sides of the counter.

It’s not really trapping him—they are both aware that if he wanted to get away from her, he could do it faster than she could blink. So, either he was expecting this or he’s  _much_  more surprised than she predicted he would be. 

She studies his face, which is steadily reddening, and the way his gaze flicks around the apartment, as if trying to find someone watching or getting ready to jump out at him and declare it’s a trick. When nothing like that happens, his eye comes back to rest on her.

_Surprised, then. But not unpleasantly, I think._

“I d-did…but…th-that means…you want to…?”

“Yes or no, Kakashi,” she tells him. “You have needs, I have needs—and I don’t do long, drawn-out explanations.  _Especially_  not when I’d much rather tear your flak jacket off with my teeth.”

This time he swallows noticeably , and she smirks.

“There we go,” she says approvingly, and trails her fingers up the line of his chest and leaning in. “Skipping beyond the panic…letting it process…” She leans up—which is an effort because even with him resting his weight on the counter, he’s four inches taller—and then presses her lips against his.

She continues to hold his gaze but doesn’t make a move to deepen their kiss. His mouth is warm behind the thin material of his mask, and she can feel the way he inhales sharply through his nose, but it’s still not a ‘yes’.

Seconds pass, and just when she starts to think she  _may_  have gotten it wrong after all, the tension bleeds out of him and he makes a tiny, infinitesimal downward tilt of his head to

And then he swallows, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders and a tiny, infinitesimal downward tilt of his head to return the caress.

Manako smiles against him, enjoying the moment, before pulling away. True to her word, she ducks her head forward and take the zipper tag of his flak jacket between her teeth, drawing it downward.

The way his eyes widen just then is worth the jolt of neck pain.

“I guess the only relevant question right now,” she continues innocently when she releases the metal bit, “is do you want to keep the mask on or off? Because I’m good with either.”

And she grins wickedly at him, because she has  _plans_  for that mask, regardless of what he says.

If he wasn’t blushing before, he definitely is now.

“I’m…” he begins, and his voice cracks a little, showing how flustered he is. “I’m too old for you.”

“Mmm…should I be worried you’ve forgotten all the steps?”

He narrows his eyes at her teasing. “Are you even old enough to  _know_  all the steps?”

“Only one way to find out.”

He must hear the resolve in her voice, because he gazes down at her in serious calculation for another ten seconds. She can imagine what’s going on in his mind--Manako is not drunk, or drugged, or concussed or any number of things that might explain away her overt come-on, which means--

She watches the way his pupil dilates when he comes to the conclusion, and she’s pretty sure that’s a sign of capitulation.

“Knew you’d get there eventually,” she approves. 

“I’m going to hell,” he tells her gravely, pushing off the counter.

“Save me a seat,” she tells him, fingers fastening in his jacket and drawing him down to her.

His right hand slips around her waist, the left peeling down his facial covering. Their mouths meet again, and this time there is no cloth barrier. She pouts against his bottom lip, pressing insistently forward until she feels him mirror her interest back at her, then parts her lips, tugging the rounded flesh lightly between her teeth, before sucking it into her mouth. 

It elicits a small, surprised noise from the back of his throat, but he doesn’t pull away or tell her to stop, so he must like it. 

Manako is mildly concerned his movements are still a little reluctant, but when his hands round the curve of her ass and squeeze, pulling her that much closer to him, those worries vanish. She retaliates, sliding her hands up and into his hair—and oh, she’s been wanting to do that for  _ages_ —and scrapes gently across his scalp. 

When he opens his mouth to gasp in a breath of air, she runs her tongue lightly across the bruised seam of his lips. It’s not her that deepens the kiss, though; Kakashi is the one who draws her tongue into his mouth, making her moan in approval. 

His right hand slides around her thigh, calloused fingers and rough leather trailing downward until he can get a firm grasp, and then grips it to his hip. For a moment she feels the first signs of his arousal against her front, but then he moves, with an effortlessness and speed that makes her jealous, and lifts her without ceasing his exploration of her mouth. 

Now he has her perched on the edge of the kitchen counter, and she reflexively crosses her legs around his back, pulling him closer. His left hand cradles the back of her head, fingers threading through her own thick tresses, while the other releases its grip on her to settle across her waist. His fingertips brush against her spine, and his thumb rests beneath the hem of her shirt, not seeking upward, simply...hovering there. 

She shivers at the light, feathery touch, something inside her warming at the idea that he is being gentle with her, even when it’s the last thing she wants. Her mouth is too occupied to say so, though, and so she reaches up to push his  _hitai-ate_  back over the curve of his forehead and hair, setting it carefully to one side. 

_Don’t treat me with kid-gloves, Scarecrow, I want_ all _of you._

There is a pause, where she pulls back a few inches, and he studies her with his right eye only, and then slowly, he opens the other.

The Sharingan gleams at her, making her stomach swoop, because before Kakashi, only one other person has ever looked at her with one of those. The intensity has changed, though. She doesn’t feel unnerved by the  _tomoe_  that scrutinise her now, committing the lines of her face to memory. 

No, she feels a thrill of stomach jolting anticipation. Tentatively, she reaches her fingers upward, tracing the tip of the scar that slices through his left cheekbone.

She’s not entirely sure why she does it, but she leans close and brushes her lips against the raised skin there.

Kakashi gives a shuddering exhale then and twists her face to one side to kiss her once more. He doesn’t spend as much time on her lips this time, instead trailing his mouth down her chin and along her jawline and neck, grazing his teeth lightly against the pulse there.

Tightening her thighs around his hips, Manako draws him closer, peeling the flak-jacket away and letting it fall at their feet, before tugging at the bottom of his turtleneck.

“Did you…tuck this  _in_?” she growls in frustrated disgust, when it doesn’t come away from his waistband easily.

He laughs quietly into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, but that cuts off when she finally gets the damned thing loose and pulls it up over his head. She leaves him to struggle with it a bit in retribution for the mocking, and occupies herself with brushing her fingers against the taught skin of his abdomen. The muscles there flutter under her touch, and he makes another one of those surprised noises she’s beginning to like so much.

Just as he frees himself from the tangle of his shirt, she slides her hands up the plains of his chest, earning a sharp inhale when the nail of her little finger catches on his nipple. This turns into a full-body shudder as she leans forward, lips tracing the same path as her hands. She trails a line of open-mouthed kisses upward, until he appears to grow impatient with her teasing and captures her mouth with his again.

She enjoys this for a few seconds, letting her hands drift once more to rake through his hair until it sticks up even more than usual. Then, she pulls away, intending to make a comment. Something him being in a hurry despite his propensity for tardiness—

Except he chooses that moment to slip his hand under her shirt and cup her left breast, and she can only gasp, tightening her fingers against his scalp. He is still wearing his fingerless gloves, and if she thought the feel of rough leather and calloused fingers felt good on her clothed thigh, this is ten times better!

“No bra?” he wonders, like that’s somehow surprising even after all this. He presses his forehead against her, his eyes intent on hers, like he’s looking for an admission of guilt or something.

“No need.”

“So this was planned.”

“I am an evil genius,” she agrees, arching into the curve of his palm against her. “What are you going to do about it?”

He covers his mouth again, at the same time thumbing a circle around her nipple, and she feels her toes curl and heat flare between her thighs.

“I’m good with that,” she gasps when they come up for air. “More of that. Definitely—”

He ducks his head down, pressing his mouth against her right breast, and seeking out the other hardened nub and worrying at it through the cotton of her shirt. She doesn’t try to hold back the moan of pleasure at the sensation of his mouth teasing her through the material, synchronising the movements of his tongue with the movements of his busy right hand.   

Tiny sparks frisson through her, and her hips reflexively jolt upward; she stays perched on the counter only because Kakashi’s left hand presses down on her, thumb and forefinger resting against the crease between thigh and hip. If he just inches his thumb between her legs a little bit—

But he seems content to stay where he is, nipping and sucking and tweaking her through her shirt.

She’s not complaining about that—if this time were not the first time, she’d be content with just the attention to her breasts. But she’s not going to be able to keep herself upright soon, and falling into the sink is  _not_  in her immediate plans.

She’ll be damned if she’s not getting more than just a grope in her kitchen.

Lightly, she pushes him away, earning a somewhat confused expression in return, and then grins, hiking her shirt off. She tosses it to one side—it might end up in the sink for all she knows—and goes to reel him back in. Kakashi, however, has paused, staring down at her, pink-faced and a little stunned.

It’s as if up until this moment, he wasn’t entirely expecting to end up with an arm full of naked woman. His eyes trace her curves, his mouth opening and closing several times, and she smirks at him.

“Your nose isn’t going to start to bleed now, is it?” she asks dryly. “I mean, I know my breasts are amazing and everything, but I’m not sure they’re worth you losing consciousness before we even get started.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he replies, his tone surprisingly serious, and she’s a little off-balance from the unexpected compliment. It takes her half-a-second to catch up with him when he draws in again and kisses her, both his hands perched in the creases of her thighs now, and thumbs gently massaging the inseams. They are skin to skin now, and while it’s hot where they touch, the skin on the back of her neck and back prickles in anticipation.

_Fuck, my shorts are already soaked_.

She doesn’t know when the kiss becomes deeper, or their movements hungrier. Fingers fumble, their hands bumping each other as they strain to touch one another without putting more space between them.

Eventually he pulls back slightly to breathe or adjust his hold or something else she’s not sure of. Manako growls a noise of complaint and rakes her nails across his deltoids and shoulders in reprimand. He hisses, a sound torn between pain and pleasure, and her thighs press tighter around him in response, their hips rocking toward one another but unable to meet. Kakashi’s hips move against the counter, too low down to give either of them any relief.

That needs to change, and fast.

She drags her right hand down his well-muscled arm, sliding across skin and wrapping a hand around a surprisingly slim wrist and gloved hand.

He makes an inquiring noise— _no, silly man, I have no intention of making you stop!—_ and she presses it flat against her abdomen, guiding the hand down the front of her shorts, past the waistband and above the sensitive skin beneath her navel—

“Oh,” he says, which she thinks is kind of adorable, and then she loses track of her thoughts for a moment as calloused fingers slide through the hair above her opening. He hovers for a beat, a finger sliding against the outer seam between her legs.

Then, without warning, he presses a finger into her.

“ _Ah_!” she hisses in approval, spine straightening at the sensation, and she knew what was coming, but it still surprised her. His lips are back on hers, swallowing every gasp as he pumps the digit in and out of her. It’s a maddeningly slow pace, but each time that finger glides against her clit, disjointed bursts of electricity flicker within her. They build with each pass, but it’s not enough to get her off. She opens her mouth to tell him so, just as he adds a second finger, and—“Yes!  _Fuck_ , like that—Keep fucking doing…that!”

“Why doesn’t it surprise me  _this_  would make you curse more than usual?” he murmurs in her ear with more amusement than should be allowed and distracts her from answering a moment by a bruise onto her collarbone.

“You’re saying you— _ah!_ —you don’t...swear during sex? Li… _ah!...Liar!”_  ” she pants, straining her hips to try to meet the in-and-out movement of his fingers. A warm, lazy pleasure collects in the place where he touches her. She knew she was close, but didn’t expect she was  _this_  close, this fast. 

_This is what happens with months of foreplay._

He adds a third finger, and Manako shudders, because it feels so good, and she sort of doesn’t want him to stop, but it’s just…

Fingers she can do on her own.

“Let me down,” she groans, and he pauses immediately, as if to see if she’s serious. She pushes him back, forcing his hands off her as she hops down from the counter. His eyes widen as she shimmies out of her shorts, but before he can comment, she hooks her left arm around his neck to plant a sloppy kiss against his mouth and tries to tug him in the direction of her couch. Her right hand, meanwhile, sneaks downward and presses against the growing bulge in the front of his trousers.

Kakashi inhales, a stutter of sound, and his eyelids droop.

The reaction is not quite what she was going for, and she presses the heel of her hand down harder, then curves her fingers to trace the length of his cock, trailing up and down the clothed shaft.

This time he shudders, and his body folds forward in reflex, and she grins against his mouth.

“I bet you I could make you swear,” she purrs, nipping his neck as she carefully undoes the zipper of his pants. “I could make you beg, too. Just…by using…my…mouth.”

In a coordinated move, she takes his earlobe between her teeth and sucks, while at the same time slipping her hand past the front seam of his underwear to wrap around his cock. She gives him a firm tug.

Kakashi doesn’t exactly swear, she thinks, because the sound comes out garbled in his throat as he lurches toward her. But he leans heavily into her, hips snapping forward, trapping her hand between them as he pins her against the counter.

The Sharingan is unblinkingly focussed on her in reprimand…or challenge. “If you do that again…this won’t be slow or gentle.”

The pitch of his voice registers deep in the warm core of her, and if she wasn’t wet before, she’s surprised she’s not dripping now.  

She licks her lips. “Promise?”

He shoots her a hard look and then she feels almost like some invisible switch has been flipped.

The next thing she knows, he’s spinning her around, moving her away from the counter and pinning her to the nearest upright surface. (It happens to be the fridge.) He’s got one of her legs wrapped around his hip, and with his free hand he holds both her wrists above her head. She has the brief impression of cool air between her open thighs, and then his hips piston forward, grinding into her.

His cock strains at her behind the barrier of his underwear, shoving roughly against her clit, a scraping pleasure that sizzles through her blood.

“Oh, fuck…yes!”

Kakashi does it again, and again, somehow finding the perfect angle each time, sometimes punctuating a thrust with a nip to her neck or shoulder.

Every movement ratchets her back to that pulsing electricity that was building earlier.

This is what she wanted—fast and rough and desperate, and she  _knew_  he’d be good at this. Wall-sex—or fridge sex—might easily become her new favourite thing, and the only change she would make would be if she could just clench down on  _something_ , but that means—

“Condoms,” she murmurs distantly, drunkenly, against the corner of his mouth.

“What?”

“Condoms…they’re—oh, fuck!—they’re over there…!”

She waves in the vicinity of the couch, and the coffee table drawer where she stashed the damn things earlier.

Kakashi makes a noise of frustration. “You’re not on—?”

“Of course I,  _ah..._ mmm, but I…” Again she gestures frantically toward the living area. “The couch…we need to get…to the couch. Unless…” She grins, breathless, “D’you…want to finish…right here…?”

Which might break her fridge, judging by the  _whump_  sound it makes every time Kakashi drives himself between her thighs, and the sound of containers rattling around inside. And she is  _totally_  up for it if he wants to just dry hump until they both come, but she had imagined there would be more than that this first time.

He seems to agree because he gives a groan, like the effort is taking all his concentration, he lets her drop her leg. Trying not to notice the sudden unpleasant swooping in her uterus at, once again, pulling back before she could get off, Manako tugs Kakashi toward the couch by the waistband of his pants.

It’s hard to move her hands properly, though, because his hard chest is once again pressing against her, and he has turned her face up to kiss her again. She makes a frustrated sound, even as she returns the kiss with the same insistence, because she  _wants_  to keep kissing him, but she also  _wants_  to get to the gods damned couch.

As they move, she tries to loosen his pants, easing the waistband from his hips, and causing them both to stumble along the way. She even trips across a chair and knocks into the kitchen table, only just putting an elbow out in the nick of time to catch herself.

Pain lances through her and she swears, but he is already on her, mouth everywhere and pelvis crushing against her, taking up the delicious rhythm between the cradle of her legs, and it feels  _so_  good, so maybe they should just—

_No!_

“Couch,” she murmurs against his mouth.

“Forget the couch,” he mumbles. “You’re obsessed with the couch.”

The kitchen table gives a worrying creak and she shoves ineffectually against his chest. “The couch won’t…fucking…break…under us!”

“You…ah…you don’t know that.”

He thrusts against her in a way that makes her breath punch out of her, but this time, the sound beneath her is almost like a  _crunch_. Before she’s entirely aware of it, Kakashi is up and standing, pulling her into his arms almost protectively.

He studies the table with a frown, then meets her eye.

“Right,” he says, voice low and strained. “Couch. Couch is better.”

And they’re back to half-walking, half-stumbling until Kakashi actually falls backward over the armrest of the aforementioned furniture piece. He blinks up at her, like he’s not entirely sure how he got then, and then says brightly, “Look. Couch. Like you wanted.”

“You are such an idiot,” she tells him fondly, yanking open the drawer of the end-table and grabbing strip of condoms. She rips open one of the foil squares and say, “Pants.”

Kakashi swings his legs over the side of the couch, trying to manoeuvre out of his trousers and underwear at the same time.

“Couch…pants…” he mutters to himself. “You really enjoy one-word commands.”

“Dick,” Manako suggests with a smirk, earning a snort of almost laughter from him.

In the end, he only manages to get his trousers and underwear shoved halfway down his thighs before giving up, a frustrated look on his face even as his cock juts upward against his belly, leaking precum from the head. If she wasn’t burning from within right now, she would definitely keep her word about using her mouth on him.

Instead, she rolls the condom down the hard flesh and slides her fingers around him a few times, just to appreciate the shape and the strangled half-gasp, half-moan sounds he makes at her touch, and then carefully lifts herself forward and up.

Kakashi’s hands fly out to settle upon her hips as she sinks slowly down onto him. His mouth parts, head falling back against the couch. “… _Fuck.”_

 “I heard that,” Manako laughs, a little breathless as she adjusts to the sudden sensation of fullness within her. She somehow didn’t expect that. “You’re…a… _liar_ …”

It takes her a moment of shifting about to find a comfortable seat—each movement making Kakashi tighten his grip on her hips out of reflex. Then, balancing her weight on knees and thighs, her hands settling on his broad shoulders, she begins to move up and down.

It’s slow at first, a need to find the right rhythm and take in the sensation of him moving in and out of her. But then she finds the angle that has his cock gliding against her clit with every inward stroke, and she can’t stop herself from speeding up.

“That’s…it! That’s…fucking… _it!”_

Tightness coils at the base of her spine, mingling with the fullness within her in a way that steals her breath. Her thighs ache, and the position is not comfortable except where they are joined, which is really, really comfortable—more than comfortable, she needs that, but Kakashi has a bruising hold on her now, helping to lift her up and down—

His head is no longer thrown back in pleasure but tipped up to watch her. Every now and then he’ll crane forward to nip at her breasts, or steal a kiss, and this always changes the angle of their joining  _just_  as she starts to climb toward her end, and she snarls in frustration.

“Would…you…fucking…let me…come…!” she snarls, pretty sure he’s doing this on purpose, because his mouth twitches upward each time she whines in frustration.

_It’s the Sharingan, I know it...he’s using the fucking thing to...to…_

“Fuck...”

Her head feels full of cotton, and she wonders if maybe he wants her to beg for it, but the plea get lost somewhere with the rest of her ability to formulate sentences.

Then, just as she thinks she can’t take it anymore, his teasing pace changes. Black eyes are riveted on her face, watching with an almost disconcerting focus as she moves faster and slams down harder on top of him. Each time, he raises his hips up to meet her, pressing his cock deeper up into her. He pants in time with her, cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide, and Manako knows she probably looks the same, but oh, she never thought she would see the great Kakashi Hatake looking so strung out.

Sweat and the wetness from both their bodies coats her thighs, and the sharp pleasure jolting through her from where they join grows with every second. Tension gathers behind her spine and beneath her diaphragm, winding closer and closer in on itself, and she’s crying out now at the end of every exhalation, and he keeps  _watching_  her with that unwavering focus, and that shouldn’t matter, but it occurs to her that he is going to remember,  _forever_ , the way she looks when she comes, and—

Then she is flying apart.

Her awareness scatters as a controlled explosion of pleasure rolls through her entire body, from the core of her to her fingertips and toes, and then back again, and she cries out—yells, really—before going still.

Manako slumps, the strength in her knees and thighs failing, leaving only a burning sensation in its wake. She catches herself on Kakashi’s shoulders, taking a breath to recover, but he isn’t in the mood for waiting. He slips out of her, sweeping her around until she is flat on her back, finger-bruised hips pressed into the couch, and then he’s shoving a cushion under her back.

“You good?” he asks, the two words carefully controlled despite the tautness of his entire body and the way his jaw works, like he’s trying really hard to remember how to speak.

Her stomach trembles a little at the dark look in his eyes.

“Yeah,” she breathes, even as her insides continue to twinge.

Kakashi presses her right leg against the back of the couch, then pulls her left leg over his shoulder, opening her wide to him. There’s no warning as he plunges into her again and—

_Oh,_ that’s _different_ …

He moves at a frantic pace, one that has her gasping in mild discomfort and clutching above her head for the arm-rest to keep herself from being pushed up the length of the couch. 

It’s uncomfortable, those first few thrusts. She is still tightly wound from the aftermath of her orgasm, and this position gives him much deeper access than before. She feels too raw and too small and too full, in a way she didn’t when she first took him inside her, when she was in control, but at the same time, his movements are sure and a level of forceful that she likes.

Kakashi pushes her knee further back, making it almost touch her shoulder, and she didn’t know she was still this flexible, and his breath is loud in her ear, plastering their hair across her neck, and hers comes out in short gasps because she can’t get a complete breath between the thrusting and the weight of him against her chest. And yet her mind is not there, instead on the sensation of his skin against her own, the slide of unyielding hardness against her inner walls.

At first, he moved with his entire body, but the more time passes, his thrusts become faster and less rhythmic. Soon, it’s only his lower body moving in frantic, upward jolts.

Every second that passes, she is more aware of the tip of him bumping repeatedly against her cervix, and it’s weird but not unpleasant, and pales beside the pressure building up somewhere behind that. There are no short, frenetic bursts of electricity gradually blurring into one current of pleasure. Instead, she feels like her insides are pulling together, edging further up inside of her until they can’t go any further, and she can’t breath, but it’s  _good—_

“Faster!” she orders, pressing her left heel into his back; her right hand comes free from the couch, and she bunches her nails into the muscles of his shoulder. He groans, a wrecked sound, but does as she says, spurring himself on faster than before. “Come on now… _Come on!”_

And she’s pretty sure they’re both going to have bruised pelvises tomorrow from the force with which they are bumping against each other, but she doesn’t care because it’s too good and not enough and almost there—

“ _Fuck—I’m—!”_  Kakashi’s words catch, and then he gives a half-shout, half-groan and his entire body shudders.

He presses into her once, and then once more, his face falling into her neck, and goes still.

The swooping, swelling sensation within her immediately begins to fall and she cries out, “No! Keep…I’m almost…fuck,  _I need—_ ”

He’s spent, she knows that, but he remains inside her, sliding in and out even as he softens, and then his hand moves down between them and fingers press against her clit, and it’s enough, it has to be enough!

_“Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop!”_

And she’s repeating that, over and over, steadily louder, until—

The second climax hits her harder than the first, and she goes rigid, back arching, mouth open and eyes unseeing.

Once again, the wave of pleasure shatters over her, and she feels everything within her  _let go_. 

Manako regains awareness of her body as Kakashi falls forward, a heavy weight against her chest and hot breath in her ear. Her left leg slides off his sweat-slicked shoulder now that he’s no longer holding it in place, and her knees feel like jelly. For a time, the only sound in the suddenly too-quiet apartment is their winded breathing and the roar of her pulse in her ears.

It’s a comfortable kind of paralysis until it isn’t.

He starts to feel too heavy, and her right leg is falling asleep from being squished into the couch by both their bodies. Manako shifts, and Kakashi moves too, pulling out of her.

Removing the condom, he looks a question at her, and she points vaguely in the direction of the bathroom. He has to pull his pants back up around to keep from tripping, and she admires the view his departing backside (as well as the newly added scratch-marks across the pale flesh) as he goes.

She basks for a few long minutes in the afterglow, enjoying the way her body aches the way it only ever does after  _really_  good sex. She’s too satisfied to move or put her legs together or anything else. It’s fine, though; Kakashi takes long enough in the bathroom, probably cleaning himself up, that she can ease her brain back to regular function.

_Shit, I think I’m still seeing stars. How is it fair that he’s a genius at_ this _too?_

Eventually, she manages to get to her feet and stretch. It feels like she might have a few bruises or scratches to match Kakashi’s.

When he returns, he has tucked himself back into his pants and now eyes her with something akin to wariness. He looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t know what.

Manako recognises the expression.

It’s the moment after sex when people get weird, asking unnecessary questions or complicating things. She wonders if he’s waiting for her to do that, or if he will. When he doesn’t say anything, she grins at him, the way she would on any other day, and nods her head toward the kitchen. “I’d say that definitely worked up an appetite. Let’s eat something. You  _did_  get extra portions, right?”

“…Yes,” he says, tone unnaturally level in a way that anyone else might mistake for calm, but she recognises as his way to try to disguise unease.

_Can’t have that!_

“Awesome!” She turns and heads back to the kitchen, noting with some annoyance that, yes, her shirt did end up in the sink and is absolutely unwearable now.

_Oh well. It’s a good thing I excel at nudity._

“I taped the new  _Icha Icha_  movie,” she goes on in a conversational tone. “It’s on one of the VHS tapes, so feel free to plug that in.” Then she tosses an elaborately casual glance over her shoulder, and in the same mild tone adds, “And since I’m about to eat garlic, you’d better have the decency to do the same.”

She returns her gaze to the kitchen, determinedly focussing on undoing the knots of plastic around the takeout boxes. Despite her outward ease, there’s an unnerving sense of apprehension that lingers just behind her ribs. It radiates outward, eating away at the post-coital warmth, and that annoys her.

She tells herself that she doesn’t care if she turns around and he’s there, or if he has vanished by way of  _Shunshin_  or quietly closed door.

_I had an itch, I scratched the itch. So did he. We’re good._

But when she feels the air move just behind her and watches a pale arm reach for one of the cartons of food, that uneasy feeling in her gut vanishes.

“Don’t take all the cucumber sauce,” Kakashi tells her, and begins to open the plastic covered napkins.

Her snort of laughter feels too relieved for her liking. “Are you saying you didn’t get extra sauce?”

“Of course I got extra sauce. But that doesn’t change that fact you always take it all.”

“Then you obviously didn’t get  _enough_  extra sauce,” she dismisses, and opens one of the other cartons to cram a handful of fried potatoes in her mouth.

_Best after-sex food ever!_

But Kakashi frowns at her. “You’re going to taste like fried potatoes.”

She swallows. “And there’s a  _problem_  with that?”

“I don’t like fried food.”

“Well, you don’t have to eat any.”

Kakashi rolls his eyes and grabs a pork kebab. “It doesn’t change anything. There’s still that  _fried_  taste. It contaminates everything.”

“And there’s a simple solution to that,” she tells him as he bites of a piece of meat and starts to chew.

“Hm?”

“You’ll just have to take me from behind when we go for round two.”

Kakashi promptly chokes.

終わり

**Author's Note:**

> _Yeah, Manako doesn’t have any kind of filter. Which is both good and bad for Kakashi lol._
> 
> _I hope you enjoyed the story! Comments and constructive criticism are much appreciated, and very motivating—and if you enjoy my writing, want updates or just to chat, I'm on Tumblr and Twitter (KuriQuinn)._
> 
> **栗**


End file.
